His Hidden Tears
by Bow-Tie Queen
Summary: Bond and Rogers were happy, or so it seemed. They were both double-oh's, they both loved each other very much, and everyone seemed to be waiting for a proposal. Bond let them hope, it wasn't going to happen. Because what everyone forgets is Craig Rogers is a very dangerous man. But he makes sure never to let Bond forget that. WARNING: Rape, abuse, suicidal thoughts, Bond/Q Bond/OC
1. Chapter 1

_Ok, I didn't know I would do a James Bond fan fiction, but I have been obsessed with James Bond since before I can remember. I have seen every movie, read every book, I can name the titles in order and reverse order. So, why the hell not write an angsty fan fiction? There's definitely not enough of it._

* * *

Bond and Rogers were happy, or so it seemed. They were both double-oh's, they both loved each other very much, and everyone seemed to be waiting for a proposal. Bond let them hope, it wasn't going to happen. Because what everyone forgets is Craig Rogers is a very dangerous man. But he makes sure never to let Bond forget that.

Craig was drunk again, Bond could hear it as the front door to their Chelsea flat burst open. He stayed in the bedroom, not daring to move or make a sound, praying he would relax on the sofa and fall asleep. But he heard the footsteps come to the door and it flung open to reveal the staggering, six foot five tall brunette man.

He came behind James, who had his back to the door, towering over him, and softly stroked his hair. James shivered, hating the heaviness of his drunken hands, and the strong smell of alcohol from his mouth. His hand ran down Bonds body, and rested on Bonds groin. He tried to squirm out of his grasp, but he took a tight hold of his member.

"No, not tonight." Bond murmured.

"Why not?" He said, bitterly.

"Not...not up for it." He said, pulling Craig's hand away and going to sit down, but He grabbed Bonds arm.

"Since when are you 'not up for it?' Or have you had some already tonight, you little whore?"

"No! No, of course not!"

"Then answer me, slut!"

"Get off of me, you're drunk!" He yelled, instantly regretting it. Rage built up in Craig's normally warm, brown eyes, and he grabbed hold of Bond, fumbling hands ripping his jumper and shirt off. Bond struggled against Craig's hands, but even when drunk he had amazing strength

And Bond could never hurt him.

The hands went down to his jeans, dragging them down with the boxers. Bond fought all he could, trying to tear the hands away, to push the man away. This wasn't the first time this had happened. It was way too often that it did, but there was absolutely nothing he could do. If he ever brought up or mentioned any assault, he would pay for it and leaving him...well, he didn't want to know.

He was tossed onto the bed face up, and Craig was very quickly on top of him, in his hand he has one if Bonds black, silk ties which he tied round Bonds head and in his mouth.

"Now my dear, it is only right you are punished for being the dirty slut you are. So it may hurt, and we wouldn't want people to have to hear you." He whispered, and lifted Bonds legs up painfully high before thrusting inside of him. His scream was muffled by the tie, and he fought desperately to free himself, but his arms were pinned down. He shut his eyes, trying to escape into his mind, and to stop the tears of pain leaking from his eyes.

"So, slut, who was it? Ben?"

_SLAP_

"Owen?"

_SLAP_

"Or was it that fucking quartermaster you spend so much time with?"

This was all a cruel joke. The gag in his mouth was so tight he couldn't reply even if he wanted to. And he couldn't cheat. If he so much as smiled at anyone then Craig was sure to hear about it. All he could do was wait it out, like every time.

It wasn't long before Craig's head flew back and he felt himself be filled up. He pulled out, earning a moan from Bond and left the room, taking Bonds clothes with him. Bond lay there, blood and semen pouring from his rear and pain coursing throughout his body. He came back soon with their emergency medical kit, turned him over, and with shaky hands managed to stitch his bleeding wounds with no anaesthetic. When he was done he leaned in close and whispered in his ear.

"What do we say?"

"Thank you, Craig."

He heard Craig chuckle, and he kissed Bonds ear affectionately, holding him close as he fell asleep. Bond stayed awake most of the night. He had once loved Craig, a lot. But things had changed, he had done something, he had somehow messed up, and now all the love they once had was gone. And all because somewhere along the line, he had fucked it all up, and he didn't even know how.

* * *

When he woke the next morning, he was alone. He took a shaky breath, swung his feet over and stood up quickly, hoping to avoid too much rectal pain. After very carefully putting on a fresh set of boxers, he went to their wardrobe and got a Savile Row suit. As he buttoned up the trousers, he felt two warm hands on his stomach. He froze as soft lips kissed his neck and ear.

"Do you have to go to work now?" He whispered.

"Yes, why arent you?"

"Going later, double-ohs dont have to show up till twelve. Why are you going so early?"

"M has a job for me, duty calls."

Craig made a disaprooving sound and slid his hand down James' trousers and in his boxers. He wrapped a hand gently around his genetalia and James' breath faltered

"Don't think I don't know what you get up to on your missions. If I hear one word that I don't want to hear," he squeezed, and Bond gave a strangled moan, and put one hand on the wardrobe to steady himself. Craig giggled and twisted, causing a silent scream from Bond as his face contorted in agony. He removed his hand and strode towards the living room. He rested his head against the wardrobe, breathing deeply. It reminded him a lot of the torture he had suffered at the hands of Le Chiffre, so long ago in Montenegro. Eccept this seemed ten times worse. This was from someone he had once trusted with his life. He put on the rest of his suit, walking unsteadily towards his car. M had nothing prepared, but it felt good to be there. MI6 was his sanctuary, the only place he could trully feel safe.

* * *

_Let me know what you think, hopefully chapter two wont take too long._

_~Bow-Tie Queen_


	2. Chapter 2

Hi guysss, here's chapter 2

* * *

Bond gingerly sat at his desk, trying his best to ignore the rectal agony. There were several piles of paperwork on his desk which made him happy he had come in fairly early. Everyone was used to his frequent early arrivals now, and didn't blink an eyes as he sat down and started rifling through it.

But Bond's senses were tormenting him, as they always seemed to. He still had no idea what to do. Not that there was anything to be done. He only does this to me when I've done something, said something, I just need to do as he says, it will be fine. What was the thinking? He couldn't live like this, treading on eggshells to avoid torturous nights and fearful mornings. He couldn't take it anymore. The taunting, the violence, the...

"007?"

James flinched as he was dragged from his troubling thoughts. Q was standing next to him looking worried.

"Are you ok? You've been getting like this a lot lately."

"I'm fine, I'm fine, it's just when I come in early." He rushed. Q scoffed.

"Liar"

_"LIAR!"_

_Bond fell heavily to the floor, his nails scraping against the floorboards as he tried desperately to get away. A foot pressed heavily to the base of his spine. His shirt had been ripped off, and he could hear Craig's belt being unbuckled._

_"Please, please I didn't do anything I swear." He said hurriedly, his voice wavering. This seemed to make him more angry. He raised the belt and brought it down hard onto Bond's back. Bond cried out in pain and the belt came down again, harder._

_"Don't you DARE lie to me!" He screamed, and brought the belt down again and again, till Bond's back was bloody, bruised and raw and he was desperately trying to hide his tears._

Bond's breathing quickened and he quickly got up murmuring that he needed a drink and pushed past Q. Q would normally be upset at such rudeness, but he knew something wasn't right. He vowed to look more into it. He checked his watch, Bond had come in at about 7:40, and it was now 11:56. Only a few pages of what he had was done. Ok, he was distracted, but by what so bad that he couldn't work? Even when M died, he was prepared to get right back into it. That was about the time he hooked up with Craig.

"Hey, quartermaster!" Q sighed and turned. Speak of the devil. Craig came bounding through, looking so happy. Q wondered if he knew what could possibly be troubling Bond, but didn't dare ask. It was Bonds private business, something he had to investigate by himself.

"Q will suffice." He said turning round. "May I help you?"

"Looking for James, he left early. God wonders why, this place is dull as hell." He said gruffly.

"This place is where you work, M wouldn't be happy to hear that."

"The real M died 6 months ago, they just replaced her with this Bureaucrat."

"That 'Bureaucrat' can get you fired, I'd watch your step."

"Whatever. Where's Bond?"

"He went to get a drink, he seemed distracted."

"Mmm." He mumbled, looking in the direction of where Bond had gone. "I'll go see him. Quartermaster."

"Rogers." He said with a sigh. He hoped Bond was ok, on his last couple of missions he had almost gotten himself killed. Whatever was troubling him, it was pretty big.

* * *

James brought the cigarette to his lips with trembling fingers. He had been denied a drink and so had gone outside to clear his head. He was at his favourite spot, overlooking London. Nobody else came up here, so it was a good place to go when he was feeling low. He looked out at London, such a wonderful city. So beautiful, but some people forget what lies underneath the friendly, urban background.

He looked over the edge. Many a time he had thought of taking that leap. Ending the hell that had become his life, to be with his darling Vesper once more. He contemplated the thought, the easy fall and the eternal blackness. He hoped there was no afterlife, he could only see himself in hell. But hell seemed to be his life, and had been for the last six months. Could it be any worse down there?

A hand stroked his neck and he flinched as he was turned to face Craig.

"You ok? You have to understand I only have to do that when you make me angry, it's only what you deserve." He said stroking the back of his neck. He suddenly gripped, painfully. Bond was forced to look into his eyes, gritting his teeth.

"But remember, I could get in a lot of trouble. So you tell no one, and you should really get better at keeping it together." Bond nodded, lowering his eyes. Craig let go, pushing him away and went back in. Bond, realising he was defeated, followed.

Q watched them both come back in, Bond sat heavily at his desk, and continued with paperwork, Craig looking triumphant as he walked around HQ. It didn't take a genius to know something wasn't right. He went over to Bonds desk and smiled at him, Bond didn't smile back.

"007,"

"Q,"

"I was wondering, would you be free to come to my flat tonight for a drink?"

* * *

_Please review :)_

_~Bow-tie Queen_


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3 :) sorry it took a while._

* * *

Bond was aghast; he had known Q six months now and they had never been out socially. Then he panicked, looking over at Craig, but he was caught up in, what looked like heated, conversation with one of the forensic team. He hadn't seen. He looked down at his papers again, avoiding Q's eyes.

"I...I can't, sorry. Busy."

"Oh don't worry, just for a drink, if it would make you more comfortable we can go out to a bar."

"No! No, your flat would be fine." Said Bond hurriedly. He wanted to have a drink with the illustrious, beautiful Quartermaster more than anything. His flat was private, where there was a bar there would most likely be Craig. And looking into Q's deep green eyes again assured him it was worth the risk. Q smiled a bit.

"Thanks. You know where it is?"

"M, our old M, told me in case of emergency."

"Of course she did. About 6?"

"Fine, fine." Said Bond, as Q went back to his branch. Bond put his head in his hands, looking once again at Craig. He knew one thing, he would pay very dearly when Craig found out. And he would, thanks to the bloody grape vine of MI6. One day he was certain it would kill him.

* * *

He didn't go back to the flat after work, telling Craig he wanted to do some overtime. It was a complete miracle Craig believed him. He walked around London whilst he waited, taking in the city. He hadn't been able to in ages, and he relinquished the freedom as he walked around Trafalgar Square. He had missed being truly alone. To know nobody is going to hurt you, scream at you. He rested against a wall, taking a breath. His flesh cringed as his bruised back made contact with the rough stone, but he ignored it. Craig had told him it would heal up soon, whilst he had lain on the floor unable to movie without contorting his wounds. He closed his eyes, suppressing the memory. He checked his watch; he was due there soon, so he hailed a cab. He had left his car near MI6 HQ incase Craig checked by, which he most likely would.

He was outside the flat in central London in under ten minutes. He took a shaky breath and knocked on the door. He was out of his mind, but he knew that perhaps even just half an hour with Q would perhaps help.

Q welcomed him in with a smile, and allowed him to sit as he fetched a beer. He sat with difficulty and didn't take his eye off if the door. Q noticed this, added with his uncomfortable shifting, but said nothing. An agent was allowed to be a little paranoid, but not always like this.

He jumped a but when Q sat down, and took the beer. He held it to his lips and drank deeply.

"You ok?" Asked Q.

"Fine, just fine."

"Really? James, you're always on edge now. What's going on?"

_"WHAT IS GOING ON?"_

_Bond crashes hard into wall, and Craig's hands trapped is. He pressed his face into Bonds, and Bond shut his eyes._

_"M TOLD ME ABOUT YOUR LAST MISSION YOU LITTLE SHIT, GOING OFF WITH SOME LITTLE TART BEHIND MY BACK?"_

_"Needed information...for the job."_

_"Ugh, always the BLOODY job." He spat in Bonds face, and threw him down. He came down, pulling Bond up in a kneeling position by his hair, and held on to his hair as he unzipped his fly._

_"Craig no, please...no."_

_"But your sorry Blow jobs are always the best." He said, and forced himself down as Bond gagged._

"007? James, your drink!"

Bond came out of his terrifying trance and saw that his hand had slipped and there was Heineken on one of his best shirts.

"Here, you can borrow one of mine, hang on."

"No, it's fine, it's fine." He said, knowing if Craig saw him in another mans shirt there would be hell to pay.

"It's ok, I don't mind, I'll step out if the room if you want."

"No, please Q, it's ok." Q laughed a little.

"It's fine, just tell Craig it's mine." James continued to stare it the floor, and he heard his breath hitch a little. Something seemed to click in his mind.

"007, can you take your shirt off?"

"What?" He said, a look of-was that fear?- on his face.

"Please, James." He said, a look of concern on his face.

James looked at his feet for several seconds, then stood unsteadily and undid his top button.

Craig would kill I'm when he knew he had told Q.

He worked his way through the buttons, hands faltering.

What would Q think of him? A man supposed to be protecting England-no, sometimes the WORLD, was too scared to admit he was getting hell.

He worked off the sleeves and held the shirt awkwardly in his hand. He heard nothing from Q. What was he thinking, he wondered.

Q was appalled. Every agent is expected to have a few scars, but he was COVERED in them. Some looked less than a week old, and his last field assignment had been two months ago.

Bruises and cuts littered his chest, and were those nail marks? Q turned, and had to suppress a gasp when he saw the belt marks; his back was practically black. He was shivering slightly now, and he heard small gasps, which indicated a panic.

"Who?" Asked Q, suppressing his anger as much as he possibly could.

"Who do you think?" He replied, his voice barely a whisper. Q ran to his bedroom and grabbed one of his shirts. When he came back in, Bond was on the sofa, head in his hands, breathing deeply. Q ran over and put his hands on Bond's shoulders.

"He's going to kill me." He said, his voice wavering. "H-he...he's going to..."

"He's not going to do anything to you James, I promise you he won't." He said, slowly rocking him as he took deep breaths to try and calm himself. "How long?"

"About five or six months." He said, not looking at Q.

"You could have told someone, M maybe." He snorted, despite the tears trailing down his face.

"What could he have done? Sent him to prison? Craig Rogers is the best liar out there, he could win any court case. And even if he went to jail, he's been trained to escape, we were all trained. He'd come for me." He said, his voice faltering. Q thought for a moment. Craig could be a scary guy, Q had seen him on missions, but James Bond wouldn't be scared of just a beating, it would have to be more than that. Then it hit him.

"James." He said, feeling suddenly sick. "Does he do more than...you know..."

James looked at him with those deep blue eyes, filled with tears, and Q knew he was right. James Bond, Britain's best agent, had been raped. And he knew deep down it hadn't happened just once. Know it was his turn to start weeping. He wrapped his arms around James and, to his surprise, he returned the embrace. James put on Q's shirt, and accepted another drink as they sat down, Q making sure he wasn't making Bond uncomfortable.

"So what now?" He asked, concerned

"I don't know; does it change anything? There's nothing to no done. Rogers, he's stronger than me, he can get out of anything. I can't...I don't..." Q stopped him.

"I might be able to sort something out. Trust me, it will be fine. And I can make sure no one finds out." He said, knowing the last part would reassure Bond more than anything. After about half a minute he nodded his consent, he straightened up and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Home. I'll be fine, I told him I was doing overtime."

"Ok. Call me if...you know..."

"Yeah, I will. I'll try." He turned and gave a small smile, the first Q had seen from the agent in a long time. "Quartermaster."

"007."

* * *

_Sorry I know it took ages!_

_Reviews are incredibly welcome_

_~Bow-Tie Queen_


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4 :)_

Bond rode in his Bentley with a weight lifted off of him. He was in no way happy to be going back to home, in fact he was as terrified as ever, but someone knew. It was such a scary yet reassuring piece of knowledge.

He pulled up outside his Chelsea flat and surveyed it. Curtains closed, windows locked. Shit, Craig had been drinking. He took a shaky breath and got out his phone. He scrolled down to Q's contact and thought. It would be useful, but deadly. He had an idea.

Try calling in 20 mins

-JB

Incase things got bad, he thought.

He stepped through the front door, and the stench of alcohol hit him in a wave. He walked on unsteady legs to the living room, where he saw bottles littered everywhere. In the middle of it all was Craig, a half empty bottle of Russian vodka in his hand. The minute he saw Bond, rage filled his eyes.

"Where were you!" He growled.

"Working overtime, I to-"

"No, don't bullshit me!" He screamed, throwing his bottle towards Bond, which smashed by his head, cutting a gash from his temple to jawbone. He took a sharp intake of breath, putting a hand to his bloody cheek, but stayed where he was.

"I came in and you WEREN'T THERE." He said, getting up and looking at Bonds-or rather Q's-shirt and a new hatred blossomed in his eyes. Bond froze, cursing himself.

"I was right. I WAS RIGHT WASN'T I?" He screamed, throwing Bond to the floor. He tried to get up and Craig kicked him back down.

"SO WHO WAS IT? Who have you been seeing who's better than me?"

As he said this, Bonds phone rang. The caller ID was Q.

"Of course, should have BLOODY known! That quartermaster bitch." He went to pick up the phone, making a look at bond which he deciphered as make-call-for-help-and-you're-dead.

"Yes can I help you?" He said irritably. Bond could hear Q from the other end of the line.

"Craig, hi, it's Q. Is Bond there?"

"Why would you want to talk to him?" Bond watched, sweat forming on his forehead. He had to do SOMETHING! Then he remembered something, a fact so beautiful it made his heart leap. Craig didn't know morse code. He took a coin from his pocket and started tapping on the wooden floor. Three quick taps, followed by three slower ones, and three more quick ones. S.O.S. Craig simply mistook it for a nervous habit, too drunk for the logic in his brain to work well enough.

"He has a meeting tomorrow." Said Q before abruptly hanging up. Bond could hear the anger in his voice. Craig looked back at Bond before dragging him up by his collar. He gripped his hair and slammed it back into the wall. Bond groaned, fighting to stay conscious.

"Oh, you have made me VERY angry today. You will really wish you hadn't done this." He whispered into Bonds ear before slamming his head into the walk again.

"Please...please I'm sorry." He managed, closing his eyes. Craig simply laughed drunkly, tossing Bond to the floor. He turned him on his back, tying his hands with what looked like one of Bonds ties that had been lying around. He went to the kitchen and fetched two things; a tea towel and a sharp knife.

He went back and whispered thickly into Bonds ear.

"Hush, lamb. I am going to mark you as mine, so that everyone else will know you're dirty, tainted. And it's going to hurt." He said before stuffing the tea towel into Bonds mouth.

He turned him onto his front and ripped open his shirt, exposing his muscled torso. He softly ran the tip of the knife down Bonds cheekbones, hovering over his eyes, and Bond began to tremble. Then it moved down to his chest, and began to carve. Bond could at first handle the pain, but the knife went deeper, and he yelled as it carved out a single word on his chest, deep enough to scar.

SLUT.

Craig got up and admired his work. A single tear slid down the face of the bound and gagged man, and he laughed. He grabbed a half empty bottle of whiskey from the coffee table and poured the half onto Bonds chest. This time he screamed, muffled by the gag, and tried desperately to get up. Craig knelt by him, both hands on his face and forced out the gag, kissing him roughly on the lips and forcing his tinge inside his mouth. He pulled away, his cock hardening and saw James' eyes closed, trembling. He dragged his nails across Bonds chest and he yelled, his eyes shooting open.

"Look at me, James" he said, gripping his chin. "I love you."

"Now that I highly doubt."

Craig's he'd turned sharply round and he loosened his grip on Bond who quickly shuffled away, trying to undo the bindings on his hands. Q was standing by the entrance to the living room, face full of disgust and fury.

"How did you-"

"Get in? Picked the lock, honestly surprised you didn't hear me. Now, what the FUCK have you been doing to my friend."

"Giving the slut what he deserves. 'Friend', sure, why was he wearing your shirt if you're just his friend?"

"Why are you beating the shit out of him if you're his boyfriend?" He said, grabbing Craig by his lapels in one swift movement. He smiled, and his hand shot out, grabbing the remaining whiskey and throwing it into Q's face. Q yelled, putting his hands to his face, and Craig ran, right out if the front door.

"Shit." Murmured Q and ran over to Bond. He grabbed his phone, dialled a number and was put straight through to M, quickly explaining the situation but leaving Bonds name out of it. He was a hacker, a quartermaster, not a field agent. He untied Binds hands. And pulled him into a hug, being careful of his friends chest. Bond was crying silently into Q's chest, and Q let him. Bond had needed to cry for a long time.

_Sorry this took so long and so late! Please review!_

_~Bow-Tie Queen_


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter 5!_

* * *

James sat sheepishly at the MI-6 medical table as his bloody torso was stitched up, the vulgar word still crimson and dripping. M asked a lot of questions, and it didn't take long to find out Bond had been Craig's victim. The female doctor looked apologetic, and Bond tried his best not to catch her eye. He knew these scars would be permanent, whenever he was needed to do a medical evaluation, they would be there as a constant reminder. He wouldn't be able to swim or even sunbathe anymore without people seeing, KNOWING.

The Doctor finished and left, and brought a a leg to his chest, his chin resting on his knee and gave a deep sigh. It had been about an hour since Craig had run out if the house, and the operatives had lost him. Q had held Bond and taken him to MI-6 to be patched up; a hospital would raise too many questions. They had lightly sedated him, and when he had awoken his chest wounds were still being stitched. He traced along the scars with his finger, his breath faltering.

There was a light knock on the open door and Bond flinched, craning his neck round. M was standing there, his eyes warm and his stance professional. Bond looked down and didn't say anything. M seemed to be assessing his wounds, and Bond hunched over slightly, but he knew M knew about the scars already. He walked slowly round to Bond and sat on the bed next to Bonds; the entire ward was empty.

"Why didn't you tell anybody?" He said softly.

"I did, I told Q."

"Six months later than you should have, and I know you didn't intend to tell him."

"Well what would I have said!" He snapped, looking into his eyes, with tears in his own grey-blue ones. "Thank you for the briefing Q, oh by the way, my boyfriend 004 beats the shit out of me every night before raping me for the hell of it!" He said, his voice faltering. He tried to blink his tears away and took a shuddering breath. He wanted to say sorry for bursting out, to calmly explain his situation, but all he could do for now was try and keep a lid on it.

"James, I can't possibly understand what you went through, and are still going through, but I can empathise. What you put up with is more than anyone could have. You're an agent for her majesty, you save lives every day and get no thanks for it. You deserve better than him. When we find Craig, and we WILL find him, he's going to a high security prison in Arizona." Bond opened his mouth but M stopped him. "James, this place is impossible to escape. Many have tried, all have failed. A couple of our rouges have been out there over the years, and they're still there." I promise you won't see him again." James nodded.

"Thank you. And I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You weren't in a position to tell people, and we should have picked it up sooner. I take it you won't want to go back to the flat tonight?"

"Honestly, no."

"That's what I thought. Q says you can stay at his, he's round yours now picking up your clothes." He got up and nodded to Bond. "007"

"M"

* * *

It didn't take long before Q packed a largish bag of Bonds things, and fumbled around looking for his charger. After checking the left side of the bed, he checked the right. The room disgusted him; on the floor was blood stained into the carpet, a belt just sticking out from underneath the wardrobe, and under the bed he had found bloody and torn shirts that he couldn't throw away in case he was caught. He eventually found it, and stuffed it into the bag before hurriedly leaving. He went to the living room once more to pick up his keys and looked around the living room, inspecting it closely. There was blood on the bit of floor Craig had cut him, and on the floor there were fingernail marks spread everywhere, as if he'd been dragged. On the walls were several dents, and when checking the bin saw that there was a lot if broken glass. He also looked in the fridge. There was practically no food, which was probably another reason Bond always seemed weak, and also why he had seemed much thinner when Q had seen him shirtless. Bond wouldn't have been allowed to buy food and Craig sure as hell wouldn't buy it. He felt an aching pang of guilt surge through him, wondering why he hasn't bloody noticed sooner. Six months he had been living through this hell, and everyone had ignored him. He turned and left the flat in a hurry.

* * *

That night at Q's had mostly silent. Q set up his guest room for Bond, and after thanking him a lot stayed in there for the rest of the evenings. Though he was certain of no nighttime intruders, he shut and locked all the windows Bond had seen and smiled gratefully. Q cooked, watched TV, ate, showered and went to bed, and he still heard no sign. From Bonds door when he passed, he heard heavy breathing which betrayed his crying but didn't go in, knowing Bond wouldn't want Q to see him like that and went to his room. It was about 1:30 in the morning when Q first heard Bond cry out. He shot awake, quickly pacing down the corridor as he heard another cry, and opened the door to see Bond thrashing around in his bed, fighting off invisible men. Q walked over, not wanting to touch him as he thrashed, but couldn't penetrate the walls of his terror...

_He was in the Shower, washing the blood run off of him from the belt which was now hidden under the bed. The water was turned on full heat but he was still cold. He closed his eyes, feeling the water flow around him, soothing his wounds._

_A pair of hands came to his shoulders, and lips to his neck. His hand trailed down his bloody back, resting on his arse, and a finger penetrated. Bond gasped, trying to pull away and Craig shushed him._

_"Hush darling, I know you want it. I know exactly what you want." He said, another hand going down to his already hard cock. Bond cursed his reaction and stayed still. Two fingers went in and he groaned, he then took them out and turned Bond so quickly he nearly slipped and kissed him passionately. Bond tried to pull away but Craig had his head in a tight grip. He pulled Bonds legs up round his waist and thrust in. Bonds scream was muffled by Craig's mouth on his. Craig gave small laugh, pulling away just a second._

_"Good girl, hush now. This is what you want."_

"James please, wake up, it's ok!"

James woke with a start, trembling and sweating. His throat was horse which meant that he had been screaming. He took deep breaths, pushing the nightmare into the corner of his mind, and unraveled himself from the twisted bedsheets.

"Sorry." He said quietly.

"Don't be. You were screaming, I had to wa-"

"Q, if I ever do that again you have every right to wake me." Q nodded.

"Was it...was it Craig?" Bond nodded.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Bond shook his head.

"It's late, don't worry. I'll be fine." He said, but both Q and he knew that was bullshit. Q nodded and left, and Bond sat up in bed looking out the window into London. No way in hell was he getting any more sleep tonight.

* * *

_Next up soon!_

_Please Review!_

_~Bow-Tie Queen_


	6. Chapter 6

_YES I KNOW IT TOOK ME 12 YEARS TO UPDATE AND I'M SORRY! I was confused as to the contents of this chapter, but I know what I'm doing for the next chapter, so if it's not up within a week, feel free to send me dead hamsters in the mail._

* * *

Bond heard a knock on the door and flinched. He looked at the clock, it was 9:42 AM. He hadn't slept a bit, but his senses were alert.  
"James?" Said a worried Q. He sighed in relief; only Q.  
"Come in." He said, his voice horse. Q opened the door and sat on the end of the bed with a cup of coffee  
"Did you sleep ok?"  
"Just fine."  
"Somehow I doubt that. You didn't get a minute of sleep after you woke up did you?" Bond looked away, his eyes closed. "I could stay in here, you know. Whilst you sleep, incase you wake up."  
"Thanks for the offer. But no, it's not safe." He said before he realised he had.  
"Not...safe?" Bond realised what he had said. He sighed and closed his eyes.  
"No, don't worry, forget that, I just..." He sighed again. Q inched closer to him on the bed, but didn't touch him. "He's not coming back, James. I promise you this." James nodded. He believed him, but his heart would never truly believe such a promise. Q stayed but a few more seconds before leaving. Bond didn't like being so cold with Q, but he wouldn't know what to say. How he could explain the feeling of being so terrified you can't sleep for the fear that when you open your eyes, your worst nightmare will be real. He drank his coffee swiftly, though it was still hot. He winced as his throat burned. He heard a door close which meant Q was back in his bedroom, probably hacking into another government mainframe or something. He put on a t-shirt and a pair of tracksuit bottoms and went to get some cold water. The kitchen was small and pleasant. He got a glass and turned on the tap.  
_"Craig, get off of me!"  
"Pipe down, slut!"_  
He brought the water with him as he sat on the sofa and looked at what was on the already switched on TV.  
_"Turn over love, hope you like it rough."_  
Something wrong with the American government, this would make their defence lower than ever.  
_"Are you there yet, James?"_  
M would no doubt be sending operatives if things get too hairy.  
_"If you're not there maybe I should keep going..."_  
James put his head in his hands and let out a loud grunt of dismay. The damned voices wouldn't stop. Tears formed in his eyes which he blinked back. Why wouldn't the blasted memories go away? He could still hear him, feel him...  
"James, you ok?" He looked up. Q had heard his cry of distress and come in. He had the phone in his hand.  
"Fine, fine, headache. Why?"  
"I heard you...nothing, never mind. MI6 just called, M want's you in for a meeting before you go on leave."  
"Go on leave?"  
"James, you can't go into the field like this. Please just admit that."  
James knew Q was right and remembered how last mission he had been captured, and they had tortured him. It was nothing too terrible, a few cuts, bruises, burns, but he remembered the terror, thinking about what they COULD have done.  
"Ok. Give me five minutes."

* * *

He felt sick as he walked through MI6, and felt the eyes of almost everyone on him. The news had passed quickly, thanks to the powder vine (AKA the women's restroom) and he tried to ignore them. He wondered if they judged him, inwardly laughed at his weakness. Or worse, pitied him.

He quickly made his way to Moneypennys and waited. She didn't look up from her laptop, and gave a warm hello when he walked in, but there was no friendly flirting, no jokes, no smile. Even with her head bent down Bond could see she had been crying. He thought about maybe trying to comfort her, but it would be awkward. And it would most likely mean bringing up the subject, and he wanted his confidence for M. The most he could do was lightly pat her hand after she said he could go through. M say at his desk, looking at some papers, and immediately set them down as Bond came in. He gestured to a seat which Bond took, hiding his grimace of pain. He appeared confident as he looked across at M.  
"You wanted to talk to me sir?"  
"Yes, of course. About your leave."  
"I really don't think it's all that necessary. I'm fine, it's all fine."  
"James," Bond inwardly cringed at the mention of his Christian name, "be honest with me."  
_"Just tell me the truth!" _No, not now, not here.  
"Could you really go back into the field in your state? The things that were done to you...you need to just take a month or two to clear your head."  
_"That is the truth, get off of me!"  
"Don't fucking lie to me!"_  
Sweat formed on his forehead and he closed his eyes so M wouldn't see they were misting over.  
"It's not long, just a few months. And we're going to set you up for Therapy; that I'm afraid is not optional."  
_"On the floor."  
"Craig...please don't..."  
"Now."_  
"Bond...James are you ok?"  
"Perfectly fine." He said, snapping out of his dark memories and looking Mallory directly in the eyes. "But I don't really think therapy is necessary."  
"You know it's compulsory for agents who have undergone trauma, to get them back out into the field, as well as to provide as much help as we can. Are you still staying at Qs?"  
"For the time being. I hope to move back in as soon as possible."  
"Of course. Whatever you feel is right." He said and shook Binds hand, registering the small flinch he gave. He turned and left. M watched him, sighing. Bond had a blank, dull look in his eye, similar to the look he had at M's funeral. He also wondered what he had been distracted by. Well, it wasn't really a question of WHAT. He knew of the deep and dark memories that would be swimming round his mind, attacking him when he least expected it. He had known someone to go through a similar thing. He sat down again at his desk and rummaged through his paperwork. Thank god for him he had that bloody Quartermaster.

* * *

_I don't deserve them but reviews are always fun!  
~Bow-Tie Queen_


End file.
